Willie Nelson, where are you when I need you?

I spend a lot of time reading comments from other pain patients because that’s where the real stories are located, not in what is shamefully described as news these days. In these comments, there are plenty of patients advocating for medical cannabis. And while I’m also an advocate, I don’t believe in sugar-coating the reality of this industry.

Some pain patients advocate for replacing opioids with cannabis, apparently without even thinking about what that really means. Maybe these patients have no trouble affording an adequate supply of bud, and just don’t realize how difficult access can be when you’re poor and disabled.

Switching from opioids to cannabis is not an easy thing, and should be undertaken with as much preparation as possible (including financial). Tapering is essential. It will be a little easier for patients who rate their pain levels as moderate — like a 3, 4, or 5. But for patients who rate their pain over a 5, my recommendation would be a combination of a small amount of opioids with as much bud as you want.

I can’t help those patients who don’t have access to affordable and quality cannabis (which includes me). I read comments from pain refugees all the time, and the only advice I can offer is to move to a state with a program. But pick the program wisely, do as much research as you can, and don’t make the same mistakes that I did.

If I was rich, I would build an underground railroad for bud, transporting it all over the United States to help people like me. If black people could create an underground railroad for people, it can’t be too hard to build one for buds. Oh, I know underground drug markets already exist, but does one exist specifically for pain patients? Because I think our needs are a lot different than most other users.

Willie Nelson, where are you when I need you?

Fuck You, Bud Fairy

One of my connections was a chronic pain patient, personal grower, and veteran who wanted to trade pot for sex. When I said no, he told me to fuck off and refused to do business with me.

Another dude said he was also a chronic pain patient, personal grower, and veteran, but he wanted the same thing the first guy wanted.

There was a grower who said he supplied a handful of dispensaries in Albuquerque, but when I told him I wasn’t interested in dating, he disappeared.

There was the woman who seemed to have no problem stringing me along for days, only to finally reveal that she didn’t have anything.

Then there was the traveling couple who asked me to meet them in the middle of the night and never showed up.

Finally, there was the Donald Drumpf supporter, who told me he used some of his 401(k) funds to invest in gold, allegedly located in a German vault. Also a chronic pain patient, he went on and on about the great bud he had access to, but as it turns out, that was just talk. He wanted to charge me $22/gram for average bud and I told him to forget it — even the dispensaries can’t get away with charging that ridiculous price. He also brought over some Mexican brick weed, which I had never tried before (and never will again).

I could go on (and on), but even though the stories are sometimes different, the results are always the same — disappointment and anger.

I want to thank the DEA for causing me so much misery. But I also have to thank those pain patients who refuse to help other pain patients — and remind them that karma is a bitch.

Edit 5/19/2016: As it was embarrassingly pointed out to me, the Trump supporter wasn’t going to charge me $22/gram — I miscalculated because my head hurts. However, this wasn’t the only problem, so I’ll leave it at that.